Virtues of Chack
by CrystallicSky
Summary: Even Heylin can exhibit good qualities...sometimes. CHACK, ONESHOT


**Virtues of Chack**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, sexual implication, slight gore, homosexuality, etc.**

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**_Effort-_**

Chase had to admit: he was very impressed.

Jack Spicer had been gone from all Showdowns for just over a full year now. After the lack of appearances, the punctuated absence of harebrained schemes, and the deficiency of ridiculous screw-ups, the goth boy had been given up for either dead or surrender.

Therefore, it took the Xiaolin monks (and Chase himself) by complete and total surprise for him to suddenly appear at today's Showdown and thoroughly trounce his opposition in under two minutes.

Apparently, Jack had used the year or so he'd been gone to craft an ingenious device.

With the push of a button, a hypersonic frequency was emitted from a small device. The frequency was high-pitched enough to somewhat incapacitate the warlord, with his sensitive hearing, but did far more damage to the monks, who were ordinary humans.

The Xiaolin had taken no more than three seconds to acknowledge the sound before collapsing to the ground; writhing and shrieking in pain the likes of which Chase had never before seen (and he had enacted and been present for _many_ sessions of torture over the centuries).

When it had simply become too much headache-inducing pain to bear, the young men (and woman) allied with the forces of Good had gone completely limp and unconscious, leaving Jack to, without so much as a word, collect the Shen Gong Wu and go to leave.

"Wait a moment, Spicer," the warlord stopped him. "I wish to congratulate you on your victory."

The black-clothed figure paused in his activation of his helipack and turned to the elder man, saying absolutely nothing and staring with cool, red eyes.

Chase was surprised by this: such nonchalant and calm behavior truly wasn't like Spicer at all.

In fact, had this been a year ago, the youth would have been _ecstatic_ to receive so much as a glance from his idol and would have literally been bouncing off the walls to receive an actual _compliment_!

Nonetheless, Chase spoke, "You have truly created a useful invention. Tell me, Spicer, what precisely is it?"

"Neural transmitter," the goth answered quietly, and the elder man was momentarily stunned at the rasp of his voice; harsh and rough as if it hadn't been used in ages. "Sends out that pitch and scrambles the thought-patterns in a painful way by randomly interfering with neuron activity."

"Impressive," Chase honestly commented. "Is that what has kept you away from Showdowns for so long?"

Jack nodded. "Took awhile to figure out the right frequency; one that would work on virtually everybody. Had to get a lot of test-subjects, largely unwilling, figure out how to build the mechanism, and then how to make it so that it'd work on pretty much every person on Earth but _not_ affect me."

The warlord gave a quiet hum of approval. "Clearly you put much effort into this project, Spicer. I truly am impressed."

The goth smiled, then, and Chase was given pause at how _tired_ a smile it looked. This, of course, brought to his attention the dark circles beneath the youth's eyes which, he realized with a start, were _not_ from the eyeliner the boy insisted on wearing and were instead a result of not sleeping or not sleeping _well_ for an extended period of time. Aside from that, Jack's frame was smaller, seemed thinner than when he'd last seen it many months ago (implying a lack of proper nutrition) and had it been at all possible, the pale silverish shade of his flesh seemed _paler_ than before and was now closer to actual _white_.

The warlord had the brief, nonsensical thought that, had Spicer been trained as a monk, he would have been most suited for a position as the Dragon of Metal, as it matched his area of natural expertise and his skin was of such a color so as to indicate the element.

Jack, thinking the conversation was over for Chase's lack of further reply, raised a hand to his chest, intent on activating his helipack and taking his leave.

However, the warlord noticed something else slightly off about the boy in such an action and stopped the goth from leaving.

"Spicer," he demanded firmly, "since when did you begin wearing _full_ gloves?"

The albino paused and glanced to his hands, protected not by fingerless gloves with an open area to leave the back of the hand in plain view as he used to wear, but instead by a normal black pair, concealing the entire hand from view.

Chances were this slight change in wardrobe meant nothing; that Jack had simply lost his previous pair of gloves or that his hands had grown some and he'd had to find a pair that fit.

But with the other detrimental changes wrought upon the youth in his year-long absence, the warlord wondered if there weren't a specific _reason_ Spicer wished to keep his hands hidden.

His suspicion was confirmed when the man noted the look in Jack's eyes as he glanced at his own hands: nervousness.

Chase's expression of interest in the youth's hands had sparked _nervousness_ in the boy: there was something beneath those gloves that Jack did not want him to see.

The overlord was directly before him in the blink of an eye, one large hand wrapped around a slender wrist in a vice-like grip. This close to the boy, he could actually smell faint traces of _blood_.

Without preamble, he seized the black material of one of the gloves and pulled it off, only to stare wide-eyed at what he saw upon removing it.

Jack's hand was clearly thoroughly abused: every single vein and artery in it was immediately visible, a sign that it had been long worked past its limits and it shook minutely, as if it were weak; but that was not the worst part.

The worst part was Spicer's fingers.

If Chase Young, in his long-long life, had ever seen the precise definition of fingers worked to the bone, this was surely it. The white flesh of the long, artistic digits was bruised blue and purple, and specifically at the tips, a disturbing, bloody-red color. At said fingertips, there were abundant calluses and labor-roughened flesh, not to mention several places where the skin had been so worn down by excessive use and little to no protection that it _bled_ (and in the case of the index finger, continued to do so).

"Spicer," he found himself breathing in shock at the practically ruined appendage, "why…have you done this to yourself?" Chase referred not only to the hand, but to the otherwise poor physical state of the boy.

Red eyes refused to look at the warlord, but Jack softly answered, "I…I wanted to make something good for once…something _useful_. I wanted…"

Chase frowned as the albino trailed off and he demanded, _"What?"_

"I wanted to please you!" Jack quickly answered, to which golden eyes widened further in their stare. "I just…I wanted to do something that would impress you; that would…that would make you notice me! I…" the goth used his non-captive hand to swipe fervently at his eyes, ridding himself of embarrassing tears as they left. "I wanted you to look at me without glaring…talk to me without snarling…touch me without hurting me…" Jack gave a watery smile, glancing briefly to his mangled hand still held firmly in Chase's grip. "It worked…"

The warlord immediately recognized the desperation in the tone; the overwhelming relief at finally having achieved the goals he'd just described evident in the youth's voice.

It was obvious that Jack was in the process of assuming that putting such self-harming effort into everything he did was the _only_ way to get Chase's attention.

To his surprise, the elder man found himself _really_ not wanting Spicer to mutilate and work himself to death for his sake.

He gave a light squeeze to Jack's wrist, not tight enough to hurt but enough to get the goth's ruby-red gaze on him. "Spicer," he said firmly, "no." Jack looked like he wanted to question that, but Chase did not allow him the chance. "You are coming with me."

The goth looked startled beyond all measure at the statement, but the overlord refused to care.

In saying such a thing, Chase had finally accepted Spicer as his apprentice and, now that it was apparent that the youth actually _had_ potential, he would be teaching Jack how to harness it without practically killing himself.

The two men were quite suddenly gone from the battlefield.

**_Peace-_**

Jack was jostled out of a relatively sound sleep fairly early in the morning when his Wu detector went off, much to the chagrin of his slumbering lover.

"Spicer," the man groaned, annoyed, "_what_ is that infernal thing beeping about _now_?"

The albino grunted and checked. "Blade of Blood…issat an important one?"

Chase snorted. "Fairly much of one," he informed. "A single slash at an enemy, even one that does not make contact, will drain said enemy of every drop of blood in their body."

"Holy crap," Jack muttered, tossing the Wu detector back upon the bedside table and snuggling back into the blankets. "A monk made that shit?"

"A monk gone bad," the warlord corrected. "It was only used once before it was confiscated from the defector and locked away."

"So…" the goth cut off for a jaw-cracking yawn, nuzzling his cheek into his lover's chest, "we gonna get it, or…?"

"The hells with it," Chase snorted. "The monks will not use such a thing against us, no matter _how_ corrupt they are. Fung will not let them and will likewise lock it away so that they shall not be tempted."

"'Kay, then," was the only thing Jack offered before once more drifting off to sleep.

The warlord wrapped his arms more tightly around his sleeping lover, nuzzling his nose in fire-red hair and, as he himself went back to sleep, considered the fact that several years prior, he would have made a mad dash for the Wu so that _he_ could use it against the _monks_ instead of being so at peace with himself and with his beloved's presence that he could ignore it utterly.

After all, they could just go and steal it from the vault later anyways.

**_Generosity-_**

"Give, give, give," the silk-smooth hum of Chase Young's voice spoke in a low, warm tone. "That is all you do for me, isn't it, Spicer?"

The redheaded genius stood perfectly still as the warlord circled him with a languid step that inferred a casual demeanor.

Jack knew better.

Just because Chase's body language was relaxed; calm, that didn't negate the fact that he _was_, indeed, circling the goth like a vulture circling a dying animal's prone body and could easily call upon his supernatural senses and speed to know the second the youth might attempt to flee and kill him before he could take so much as a step for the door.

Really regretting his decision to visit the older man and offhandedly wonder if he needed anything, Jack refused to move a muscle and his mouth remained firmly shut.

This seemed not to trouble Chase in the slightest and he tightened the circle he made around the boy ever so slightly. "So _generous_," he said, "such a selfless and charitable boy you are…I can't help wondering, though, Spicer: are you so openhanded with _all_ you come in contact with? With all your money, I certainly haven't seen you offering financial handouts and donations to any other forces of Evil…"

Jack deemed this acceptable to reply to and answered with a simple, "No…"

"Why is that?" the everlord wondered. "Surely there is a _reason_ you haven't made yourself a bank and loan office for other villains despite the fact of how lucrative such a position would be for you when you do business with Evil that isn't good for the money they borrow. You could even put yourself on commission and build machines for others to use. I'm sure you'd make an excellent weapons dealer, Spicer."

This, the genius did not deem acceptable to reply to and remained silent.

"Perhaps it is because you aren't generous at all," Chase surmised, hands coming to rest at the base of his spine. "Perhaps you are a greedy little boy who hates to share his money and his toys."

The albino gave an involuntary flinch that signified to the warlord that he'd hit the nail on the head and the man moved in for the kill.

"If _that's_ the case, then why are you so munificent towards _me_ specifically? Why does your sense of altruism only kick in around _me_ when in all other cases it is overwhelmed by your own avarice? Certainly you have offered me money and machines and whatever aid you could think of on _numerous_ occasions, even when I had no need of it. _Why_ is that, Spicer?"

Jack couldn't help himself. "Because," he thoughtlessly blurted out.

The warlord was directly before him in the space of half a heartbeat, the boy's chin in his hand and a scowl on his face. A supernatural gleam of red in his golden eyes, he sternly demanded, "Because _**what**_?"

"B-because I…I…" The ruby glimmer in Chase's eyes sharpened and Jack's own eyes slammed shut out of fear. Immediately, he exclaimed, "Because I _love_ you, okay?!"

The goth's eyes hesitantly opened again when the man's gloved hand removed itself from his face to return to his side and he watched the everlord warily as he took a step backwards; staring at the youth with an unreadable expression.

There was complete silence for a very long time (save for the minute noise of drawing breath).

Finally, Jack could take it no longer and softly inquired, "Ch…Chase?"

The man stared a bit longer, then… "You _love_ me?" he demanded, something in his tone saying he was dubious of the statement.

"Yeah," the genius honestly confessed, "I've _always_ really…yeah."

There was more silence. "So now, on top of all that you have given and offered me, you give me your heart as well, Spicer?"

A heavy, black boot scuffed on the floor. "I…yeah, I guess so. I guess I am."

Jack was expecting pain; harsh words and violence and to be forcefully ejected from the overlord's citadel.

The heated smirk was something of a surprise.

"Well, then," Chase began slowly, once more advancing upon the youth, "you certainly _are_ generous when it comes to me, aren't you? Evil that I am…" one large, warm hand lay heavily upon one of the albino's shoulders, sending shivers up and down the boy's spine, "I believe I shall have to take advantage of this latest offering of yours…"

Jack _squeaked_ as the hand on his shoulder abruptly pushed off his trench coat, the material forming a black pool at his feet but he allowed himself to be pulled away to the everlord's bedroom.

How'd that old phrase go? he pondered on the way there. Give and you shall receive?

He'd been doing a lot of giving for Chase; it was about damn _time_ he received something in return for it…

**_Modesty-_**

After several uninterrupted weeks of remaining within the same area and not leaving for any reason, Jack was glad to be getting out of the palace for once, _especially_ so because it meant that his lover was taking him out on a date.

It had been a _while_ since he'd actually been at a theater to see a movie!

Chase's powerful arm wrapped securely around his waist as they walked, the couple took their tickets from the machine (bought ahead of time online) and walked into the main area of the cinema.

"Welp," the goth announced, "we've got about fifteen minutes before the movie starts. You want to hit the concession stand?"

The warlord shrugged noncommittally. "I don't particularly care either way," he informed. "Although it _has_ been quite awhile since I've had popcorn."

"Ohmigod, me too," Jack moaned desirously. "We should get some."

"As you wish," Chase allowed, walking with his beloved to the ordering counter where one lone employee appeared not to be on break or busy.

"Hello, sirs," the young, perky blond greeted, her eyes straying just a bit longer on the godly handsome Chinese man than on the nonetheless attractive albino teen, "what can I get for you?"

Jack 'hmm'ed thoughtfully, his red eyes glancing up towards the menu and deciding upon a drink to go with the snack both he and his lover had agreed upon desiring before turning to the girl and informing, "A large cherry coke and two buckets of cockporn, please."

All three sets of eyes immediately widened upon realization of the slip of the tongue that had just occurred.

The blond girl stared at the gothic teen in an unbroken stare, at a complete and utter loss on what she was supposed to be saying or doing; this was only her first day on the job!

Jack stared back at her with the same high level of horror and embarrassment, at the exact same loss of what to say or do now that what'd been said had been said.

Chase watched the two in mute anticipation, waiting to see just what would happen after that spectacular Freudian slip.

Modesty overtaking him along with his extreme measure of embarrassment, the goth simply turned and ran off to the theater, leaving the girl behind the counter to stare in wide-eyed confusion as the sophisticated and attractive Asian gentlemen before her began cackling like a mad hen, thoroughly amused by the whole incident to the point that he felt he could quite literally pee himself.

**_Self-Control-_**

Jack looked up from the desk in his father's…no, in _his_ study as the door was thrown open and a servant walked in.

"Master Spicer," the silver-haired gentleman began in a cultured British accent, "there is a 'Megan' here to see you. She claims she is your cousin…?"

The young man could feel the eye-roll coming on at the mention of her name. "Yeah," he confirmed the statement as truth, "and lemme guess, she's here about her inheritance?"

The servant nodded. "In her exact words, sir, she can't believe the late Mr. and Mrs. Spicer 'would leave a twerp like you all their dough and giver her, the one they'd always liked better, nothing'."

The albino sighed, leaning back in his father's…no, _his_ chair. He had to get used to that. "Well, Alfred," he informed, "I'm not all that surprised."

'Alfred' was not actually the man's name. His birth-name was, in actuality, Leroy, but he had a marvelous sense of humor and an eccentric multi-_tr_illionaire as an employer who was willing to include a few thousand dollars extra in his monthly paycheck were he allowed to call the servant by the name of the famous Bruce Wayne's personal servant, so who really cared if 'Alfred' wasn't his real name? At the very least, he wasn't being called 'Jeeves.'

He humored his master and prompted, "Oh no, sir? And why not?"

"Megan's a money-grubbing bitch, for lack of a better word," Jack replied casually. "She doesn't care that my parents are dead, just that she's not getting their money. And besides that…I can see where she's coming from. My parents never really cared about me when they were alive, so it doesn't make a lot of sense that they'd leave me everything, but…as it stands, I'm the sole heir to the Spicer-fortune and I _get_ everything. I consider it adequate payment for the years of neglect that turned me into an asocial ne'er-do-well with a God-complex."

"Master has had a rough life," the older man conceded, moving forward to collect the two empty cups of tea and the teapot upon the desk, "but it seems as if things are looking up now. A veritable economic empire, the fortune to back it up, and a growing public acclaim that declares you the best thing that has happened to humanity since sliced bread for all the ground-breaking inventions you've released. I dare say you'll rule the world in a few short weeks, Master Spicer."

"I'm going places, Alfred," the redheaded entrepreneur agreed, "straight to the top. I think I'll take you with me, actually. I've known you a long time and I can honestly say you're one of the best servants I've ever had: you're loyal, dependable; I can trust you to get shit done, and hey, how many old codgers in the world'll put up with _my_ antics while being addressed by the name of Batman's butler? You're pretty much irreplaceable."

"I appreciate the sentiment, sir," the old man smiled.

"In fact…" the genius hummed in contemplation, "I think I just might have to find a way to make you immortal. I managed it for myself: shouldn't be too hard for you, too. What d'you say, Leroy?" Jack honestly inquired. "Would you work for me forever?"

"Well, I don't know, master," the well-bred gentlemen delegated, "that _would_ be an awful long time, and at _my_ age…"

The albino smirked at the implication. "I'll triple your salary and make you thirty again," he offered.

Leroy didn't question his employer's ability to reduce his age or even to give him eternal life: he'd seen Jack Spicer work _miracles_ with his technology and this offer was but a sampling of those marvels. "I accept, sir," he beamed. "I would love nothing more than to serve under you and your lover when you enslave the world. Speaking of which, how _is_ Master Young? Does he need anything?"

Jack grinned sharply at the question. "Oh, he's _great_," he informed his servant, one hand flexing convulsively around the arm of his chair at a particularly interesting swirl of tongue. "You could bring him some of those butter cream cupcakes he likes so much; there should be a relatively fresh batch in the kitchen, and he's _soooo_ earning it…"

'Alfred' offered the redheaded young man a smile in return. "Of course, Master Spicer. And Miss Megan in the front hall?"

"Tell her I'm getting blown by the most lethal and drop-dead gorgeous martial artist/Evil everlord the world has ever known and I'll get back to her when she starts ranking on the Top Priority List again."

The servant snorted his amusement and turned to leave his master to his lover. "As you wish, sir."

As the door clicked shut, Chase leaned back on his heels beneath the desk, smirking up at his albino consort now that his mouth was not occupied. "I like him," he confessed. "I approve of your decision to keep him around."

"Yeah, sure," Jack agreed, "but, uh, don't you have something to finish?"

The warlord's grin broadened. "As if I could forget, Spicer?" he teased before obligingly taking his lover into his mouth once more.

**_Purity-_**

"I'm sorry, Chase, I just…I just can't believe it…"

"And what, pray tell, is there not to believe?"

"It's impossible!" Jack indignantly squawked. "You're awesome, you're gorgeous, you practically _exude_ sex, and you're trying to tell me that in some odd 1500 years, you _haven't ever had it?!_"

Chase snorted. "That is not what I'm _trying_ to tell you, Spicer," he coolly corrected, "it is what I _am_ telling you: I have not had sex before in my life."

"But-but…_**WHY?**_" the goth begged. "There _can't_ be a shortage of people on the 'Who Wants a Ride on Chase Young's Cock?' list; I know I've been on it for years! I mean, hell, if _I_, a scrawny, pasty goth-kid can get laid at least once within a year of looking to, then there's _no way_ someone as sexy and badass as you can't find _some_ tail in a matter of centuries!"

"It is not a matter of _finding_ tail," the dragonlord sneered at the crude vocabulary, "it is a matter of _wanting_ it. For one, I am a warrior: by suppressing my sexual desire and turning it into blind passion, I am able to better my skills by fueling that passion into my art. How _else_ do you suppose I was able to surpass and outmatch every opponent I've ever had to such an extent that I've become the Supreme Being I am today?"

"Well-" Jack tried to cut in and failed.

"Secondly, sex is an immeasurably vulnerable act," Chase continued. "Unclothed, unarmed, unaware, and _defenseless_. Should an enemy burst into the room at the time, they would have little trouble decapitating me before I could even properly acknowledge them through the haze of animalistic pleasure. And even if no one _else_ tries to kill me during coitus, there would always be my sexual partner to worry about. Could you imagine having sex with someone like Wuya? There'd be a knife in my back before I could get all the way in!"

"That's why you don't have sex with someone like Wuya!" Jack exclaimed. "You have sex with someone you trust enough to _not_ kill you or who actually _can't!_ Search 'em for knives beforehand if you must! And that 'someone bursting in' shit is stupid: how the hell's someone gonna burst in with all the defense and protection charms you've got in this place? Even if somebody manages to get past _all_ of those (_extremely_ unlikely), they've still got your cats to deal with and by then, I'm sure there'd be something of a ruckus from the sound of hundreds of thousands of jungle-cats/warriors duking it out with some intruder. That'd give you _plenty_ of time to hear shit going down and either finish or stop doing it and get dressed to see what's going on!"

"I know."

This derailed the genius' train of thought. "…what?"

"I know," Chase reiterated. "Everything you have said is valid and I've long ago taken it into consideration."

"Then…" the goth bore an utterly puzzled expression on his face. "Then…why the hell are you still a damn virgin if you knew all that?" he demanded.

The everlord smirked in that incredibly sexy way he had, making Jack's brain boggle further in wondering how the _hell_ the man had learned that spine-shivering, knee-weakening, libido-baiting sensuality he seemed to have if he'd never actually had sex before. "Like I said earlier, Spicer," he practically purred, afflicting the albino with all the aforementioned symptoms in an instant, "it isn't a matter of _finding_ the tail, it is a matter of _wanting_ it. The security of my citadel, magical or otherwise, has long been what it is now and for centuries, it has been the _person_ that I've been looking for. Someone _not_ like Wuya, someone who _wouldn't_ (or preferably _couldn't_) stab me in the back: you."

"…me?" Jack found himself only barely able to choke out. "You've been waiting all this time…for _me_?" At the man's curt nod, the redhead snorted and asserted, "No way; I can't be the _only_ guy in the world physically unable to hurt you. There are a thousand-million other scrawny dudes like me who hate pumping iron and going outside _all over the world_."

"True," Chase conceded, "there are many that I could overpower physically in order to keep them from murdering me during sex, but none of them have an outright _incapability_ of hurting me _ever_." Red eyes stared at him curiously, so the warlord explained, "You can't hurt me, Jack Spicer; you _cannot_. It would go against every fiber of your being to bring death or physical harm to me. In all my years of living, I have _never_ found one so unendingly pure in their devotion to me, and _that_ is why I am allowing _you_ to be the one to rid me of _my_ purity."

Jack blinked, wide-eyed for a long moment as he sat on the man's bed. Abruptly, as if just recalling the fact of both of their nude states, he crossed his legs in some semblance of modesty. "Well," he sighed after a good deal of silence, "I suppose this is one hell of an honor: getting to deflower the Mighty and Powerful Chase Young."

"It is," the dragonlord agreed with a nod, for the first time since they'd both taken off their clothing uncrossing his own legs and allowing his soon-to-be lover to see him fully.

A half-chuckle sounded from the goth and he sheepishly spoke, "Guess I shouldn't be bitching so much about you being a virgin instead of actually _doing_ something about it, huh?"

"I suppose you shouldn't."

"…"

"…"

"…Chase?"

"Yes, Spicer?"

"Um…I know you seem like _way_ more of a seme than an uke," the albino delegated, "but, uh…would you mind if _I_ was the dom, if just this first time, and you were the sub? 'Cause, and I mean no offense, but I've actually _done_ this before and…I'd feel more comfortable if _I_ was…yeah."

The man considered this for a moment before obligingly lying back onto his bed, his dark, black-green locks splaying artistically upon the powder blue pillows. "I trust you," Chase solemnly offered in reply.

The redhead grinned and moved to straddle the dragonlord's waist. One white hand cupping the base of his almost-lover's skull and the other spread reassuringly upon the man's chest, Jack promised, "I'll do my best to make it good for you, then," dipping down for a warm, affectionate kiss.

**_Satisfaction-_**

Jack couldn't _help_ but feel unnerved as hundreds of thousands of women flashed into view around his lover in the midst of a Showdown.

The Shen Gong Wu that had made such a thing happen, the Qíng Yù Kaleidoscope, was something of an illusionary one and caused members of the opposite sex (kinda useless on fags, Jack mused belatedly) to appear and swarm an opponent; thereby so distracting them with their lust that they could be easily defeated. To ensure an attraction, the Wu was able to compensate based upon the victim's tastes and only women that would be found desirable would be fabricated as part of the illusion.

Now of course, the goth was flattered beyond all reason that the females currently mobbing Chase all had pale skin and brightly-colored eyes, but…he was anxious.

Those women, real or not, were _gorgeous!_ All long locks, curvy bodies, lovely faces…and all of them pawing and kissing on _his_ Chase!

They were so beautiful…what if seeing them made Chase realize he wanted someone more like that? the genius fretted. What if he was sick of leaning more towards the 'gay' end of the bisexual spectrum and was getting a craving for a woman? What if he was tired of screwing a dorky, klutzy goth-kid all the time and was ready for something new?

Unaware of his lover's internal freak-out, the warlord forcefully shoved aside many of the women on him, dispelling the rest with a miniscule effort of his will and darting forward to steal the kaleidoscope from the Wind dragon's hand and delivering a roundhouse kick to said monk that knocked him flat on his ass and sent a ringing through his ears.

"Hey, h-how'd you do that?" Raimundo demanded, slowly forcing himself back to his feet. "You…you must've cheated or something!"

Chase snorted, even as he relocated himself to the side of his albino lover. "It is easy, Pedrosa," he began, causing red, worried-looking eyes to glance up at him. "The Qíng Yù Kaleidoscope is only effective if the one it tags is actually tempted by its illusion: I am not."

Jack felt a dorky grin spread across his face as the elder male hooked an arm firmly around his waist and pulled him in close, asserting, "I am perfectly content with what I already have."

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**A/N: Here ya' go: another prompt fic for you guys! ^^**

**All I've got to say about this one as a whole is that Qíng Yù means 'lust' and Chase as a virgin is probably the second funniest thing I've written with a straight face (right under preggy-Chase). XD**

**Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it! :D **


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